


Five times Clint stayed in the vents, and one time he didn't

by PolynomialPandemic



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Avengers Family, Caw Caw Motherfucker (Marvel), Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Ceiling Vents, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Flashbacks, Found Family, Glitter, Hawkeye-two of them, Hawkguy, How hard is it to impersonate a SHIELD agent, I mean really..., I use the tags too much, I'm sorry for that, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Nintendo out of boredom, Panic Attacks, Petty Theft, Post-Avengers (2012), Pranks and Practical Jokes, SKITTLES ARROW YAS, Skittles, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Traps, Vents are good for hiding from your problems, aftermath of Strike Team Delta, air vents, but doesn't have to be read that way, but its not too bad, can be seen as Phlint or Clintasha if you want, cursing, disproportionate amount of cussing, finds a way, frisbees, froot loops, i love clint so much, kind of, prankster Clint Barton, slightly shippy, uh, use whatever ships you like..., vending machines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15283314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolynomialPandemic/pseuds/PolynomialPandemic
Summary: Exactly what it sounds like.Featuring Steve-Motherhen-Rogers, froot loops, our boi Peter Parker, and everyone's favourite snarky archer, among others.Angst, Crack, and some fluff.





	1. Drowning in Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attacks, non-graphic mention of arrow wounds, mind control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> This chapter is brought to you by summer camp Shakespeare, and having eaten rainbow goldfish for dinner for the past four days.
> 
> Features Froot Loops, Mind Control, a worried Steve, and yet another magic-user trying to take over New York.

Clint curled up to the edge of the metal plating, pressing himself into the wall of the air duct. The footsteps and voices below him continued, faint through the walls. He leaned back into the cool metal, as his head throbbed, and tried to quiet his gasping breaths. 

 

_ [“...Hawkeye? Snap out of it, Barton!….”] _

 

He dragged himself further along the vent, away from the access panel, away from his room, away from his teammates,  _ oh god, just stay away- _

 

_ [“...Clint? You okay? Back with us?...”] _

 

It would be okay. The strained smile, excusing himself to his room, the empty quip… They wouldn’t have noticed, right? They were too busy cleaning up the mess. The mess he made. Fuck. They couldn’t find him here, he didn’t have to be the cool hawkguy, he could fall apart- it didn’t matter about him, he was shit. They’re far enough away. I can’t hurt them here.   _ I can’t hurt them again… _

 

_ [“...Mind control technology…”] _

 

His breathing was out of control, erratic and too fast, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think- He pulled his hearing aids out with shaking hands, and slowly slid sideways on the wall he was leaning on, until his face was on the floor. He barely registered it. His head was a turmoil of memories and thoughts.

_ Not again, I can’t hurt them again-no, Loki stop, I can’t-oh god what have I done, What happened-Tasha, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry-  _

He gasped for air, and wheezed instead, body shaking on the metal plating, and he couldn’t move,  _ breathe, control his own actions-  _ and he was back there again.

 

_ “Hawkeye, on your six!” _

_ “Take a look at his fucking costume.” _

_ “Who is this guy, anyways?” _

_ “Another goddamn wizard? Are you shitting me?” _

_ “Language.” _

_ “ ‘L _ a _ n _ gu _ a _ g _ e’ ” _

_ “Oh, grow up.” _

_ “Chatter!” _

_ “Stark, more magic incoming.” _

_ “Thanks. Got it.” _

_ “No other hostiles detected.” _

_ “Good. No need for a code green this ti-Clint watch out!” _

_ Orange energy _

_ And then... _

_ The arrow in his hand. _

_ On his bow _

_ Arcing through the air until it hit Tony _

_ Bouncing off the armor, detonation denting his knee plates _

_ “Legolas, what the fu-” _

_ Arrow towards Cap _

_ Hitting his shield and sliding off _

_ “Guys, Hawkeye’s compromised, some mind control shit, can you-” _

_ Falcon.  _

_ Sam dodged behind a building, arrow whistling past his head _

_ “How’d he hit Clint-” _

_ Arrow.  _

_ Miss. _

_ “-Maybe if we take out the wizard-” _

_ Arrow. _

_ Arrow. _

_ Explosion _

_ “Almost there, hang on-” _

_ Arrow. _

_ Nat? _

_ The arrow arced from his bow and he watched in slow motion as it shot towards Natasha, Nat, oh god, no, _ Nat _ - _

_ Not again, not again- Fuck-  _

_ It embedded itself in her leg, and she startled, noticing the fletching- _ his fletching _ \- and winced as she pulled it out _

_ And kept fighting _

_ But she’s Natasha, she could fight with her legs, arms, and back broken. _

_ Oh god, what had he done? _

_ He nocked another arrow. _

_ The sorceror went down. _

_ And Clint’s actions came rushing back. _

 

It looped again, getting more clouded

Time jumped around, and sometimes he was shooting at Steve, and sometimes he hit Tony, and Sam, and saw them falling out of the sky, sometimes Wanda was impaled on an arrow, sinking to the ground, sometimes Nat, unstoppable Nat, looked at him from the pavement with unseeing eyes, in a pool of blood, and it was all his fault, everything, and then Cap was going down again, and-

 

_ Thud. _

 

_ Thud. _

_ Thud. _

Clint pulled himself out of the flashback with some effort, and could see the inside of the ducting again, and feel the pounding on the wall next to the vent he was in.

He slid into a more upright position, and stuck one of his hearing aids back in.

 

“-int? FRIDAY said you were in here.”

 

[“ _ Clint- The fuck are you- SHIT-”] _

 

He steadied his breathing a bit, and wiped at the trails of water on his cheeks, even though Steve couldn’t see him.

“Y-... Yeah, Cap. I’m in here. ‘S Nat okay?”

 

_ [“Nat- oh god, Natasha, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”] _

 

He pushed the memory back

 

“Yeah. Just getting the arrowhead out. Do you need to go to medical?”

 

“Nope. I stayed out of the way.”

 

“Want someone to check on the effects of the spell?”

 

Clint’s breath caught at the word spell, but he kept the casual voice going as well as he could while he fell apart.

 

“Nah. I’m good, Cap. Just avoiding lectures about recklessness.”

 

“Alright. You sure you’re okay? I know you… don’t like mind-control.”

 

Clint let out a humorless laugh, just a huff of air, really.

 

“I’m fine up here. See better from a distance, remember?”

 

“Okay. See you at dinner.”

 

“See you.” Clint barely concealed the tremor in his voice. 

He listened to Steve’s footsteps fading, and put back his other hearing aid, just in case he might come back.

Now that Cap was gone, he slumped back over onto his side and closed his eyes. 

One good thing about the soldier bothering him, he supposed, was that he didn’t seem prone to another flashback or attack at the moment. He still felt a bit of the panicked, shaky buzz in his head that warned of another episode, but it was faded quite a bit. 

_ Thanks, Capsicle.  _

He was still shattered, still shaken, still scarred to the core at the renewal of one of his worst fears, but… the fact that more people than just Nat cared enough to check in on him, even if it was Motherhen-Rogers.

That maybe they forgave him.

Mattered a lot.

 

Next move? Checking in on Tasha, of course. She’d know he was there, no matter how sneaky he was, which was also good, because…

Because no matter how good an agent’s mask is, it feels good to know people care.

Starts in on erasing all the things you’ve done, the things you’d rather forget. The “blood in your ledger”, as Natasha would call it.

 

God, Tasha.

I’m so sorry.

Clint pushed himself up, groaned, and moved down the vent to recuperate with stolen froot-loops and bad TV shows.

He might even let Natasha have some of the tiny sugary rainbow garbage cereal.

 

But only because he felt slightly guilty, of course.

That was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Writers block, fleeting inspiration, anxiety, and the tempting internet are all bitches.  
> So, yeah. You can send prompts, but I might not do them.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING MY TRASH!!!!
> 
> Coming up next (maybe tonight, depending if i can finish it before the WiFi shuts off) is m'boi Peter!!!


	2. That Attitude May Be Your Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but not really his doom! Don't worry, this is a crack chapter.
> 
> This chapter brought to you by an imminent performance of The Merry Wives Of Winsor, Lucky Charms, and Ninjafan1's comment!!
> 
> Features a mention of the Amazing Hawkeye (No, the other one), Peter Parker, and Frisbees
> 
> TW: a character is temporarily buried under a mound of plastic toys(Does this count?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized I have no idea what Clint’s middle name is, so I just kinda yelled ‘what’s the lamest middle name ever?’ and my roommate said ‘Edward.’  
> And that sounded familiar.  
> Guess why?  
> (If you guessed Tony, good job. Have a cookie. Oops, looks like Cap ate the last one. Shame.)  
> Includes a mention of Kate Bishop, the Amazing Hawkeye! She’s the best!

_“WHAT THE FUCK!!”_

 

Peter giggled as Steve’s enraged cursing filled the training room. "Language!" he intoned ironically. The Spider-Kid was currently dangling upside-down on the ceiling, filming the entire debacle as it went down.

 

And it was going down.

 

Captain America, Defender of Justice and Liberty, Creator of PSAs, Leader of the Avengers, the Star Spangled Man With A Plan himself, was currently buried under a huge mound of frisbees. The picture was completed by the hand sticking out at a comical angle. He’d slipped under the initial barrage, and his hand was horizontal at about a foot from the ground, out of the side of the giant sloping mound of cheap plastic products.

 

Peter glanced at the vent grille, where the eyes and grinning smile of everyone’s favourite archer showed through the slots.

 

“I SWEAR TO GOD-”

_...okay, MOST people’s favourite archer._

 

He watched Cap start to dig himself out, muffled profanity accompanying the sounds of lots of pieces of hard plastic clattering and rolling on the floor. The pile tilted to the side, shifting as he moved, and Clint grinned harder. The head, shoulders, and some of the body of the soldier appeared from the pile, and it looked like Cap was attempting to swim through the pile of blue frisbees.

 

Tony glanced up from one of his holograms, with some new invention on it, grinned at the sight of their leader floundering through the mound of toys, and strolled over to join the party.

 

“So. I assume this is why I was charged for 7,051 ‘Captain America’s Shield-patterned frisbees.’”

 

Peter gave him a thumbs-up.

 

"CAW CAW MOTHERFUCKER!"

 

Finally extricating himself with one last push-slither-slide, and with a comical expression of rage on his face, Steve scanned the room, glared at Peter (Who shrugged back, as if to say _I’m just filming, don’t look at me_ ), and finally noticed the eyes in the air vents, probably because of the uproarious laughter coming from that vicinity. He struggled to his feet, shield replicas clattering to the floor.

 

“CLINTON EDWARD BARTON, YOU ARE- WHAT THE- HOW- ...WHAT THE FUCK!”

 

Giggling on the ceiling, Peter called, “Language!”, and dodged the return glare by hiding behind his recording StarkPhone.

 

Drawn from the next room by the noise, Nat entered from the hallway. She frowned, catching the end of the last sentence. “Clint’s middle name isn’t Edward.”

 

Exasperation barely contained, Cap turned to her, “I don’t fucking care. I just picked the worst, most boring middle name I could think of.”

 

“Hey!” Tony protested. “That’s my middle name!”

 

Clint’s grin only widened. “Seems appropriate.” His face disappeared from the vents

 

Tony frowned at the irate Captain. “It’s not like you have any ground to stand on, Steven _Grant_ Rogers.

 

As he protested, Steve stormed over to the vent, glaring through it. “Clint, you will get out of the fucking vents right now.”

Floating through the wall, the archer’s obnoxious voice seemed smugger than he had any right to be.

 

“Make me, Capsicle!”

 

“Clint, I swear to god, if you don’t come down here right now, you are benched for the next ten missions!”

 

The trailing laughs stopped moving farther away. “No, I’m not.”

 

At the exact same time, in a dry, exasperated voice, Nat sighed and stated. “No, he’s not.

 

Steve unbent a little. “No, you’re not. But- Seriously? Why?”

 

Peter piped up from his upside-down filming vantage point. “Because it’s funny!” He grinned down at the other Supers, “Seriously! That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen!”

 

“Payback.” Clint claimed, “You’re always throwing your shield at everyone. It’s only fair that you should have some thrown at you!”

 

“You’re so immature. God.” Cap seemed to be getting over his exasperation, and turned towards the door, bending over at the edge of the pile to hurl a frisbee at the vent Clint had been occupying. He slammed the door behind him.

 

“Did you get a good angle?” Hawkeye’s face appeared behind the obscuring vent again. He glanced at Tony and Natasha, “We’re gonna post it online.” He explained, “Serves him right for eating the last of the cookies.”

 

Nat shook her head, completely unsurprised. “The Captain’s right, Hawk _guy._ You really are a child.”

 

“Hey!” Clint said, “It’s Hawk _eye_.”

 

“Not according to Kate. And everyone who knows about her.”

 

“Damnit.” Clint sighed, “Can’t contest that. That girl’s a menace with her Skittles arrows. I’m gonna point out that I was Hawkeye first, though.”

 

The assassin ignored him. “So,” she turned to adress Tony and Peter. “What the fuck are we going to do with 7,051 Frisbees?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....What do you think happened to the frisbees?
> 
> I think that they donated them to kids in need, so they could have toys.
> 
> Or blasted them into space.
> 
> Or melted them down into a statue of Thor (A very blue statue.)  
> Your thoughts?
> 
>  
> 
> I have a few ideas for the next chapter, and will probably have it up anytime from tomorrow to in two weeks, but there my inspiration ends. Please, if any ideas occur, send me an ask/comment!!
> 
> As always, let me know if you want me to tag something.  
> Thanks for reading this SHIT!  
> I have been made aware his middle name is Francis, which-  
> Can I just say, that is possibly WORSE than Edward.


	3. Non-stop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony challenges Clint to an obstacle course, of sorts, in the vents.
> 
> TW: high-tech traps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by another summer camp tomorrow, my huge guilt for not having this out four weeks ago, and the hope of fall and not 110-degree weather soon.
> 
> Features *glitter*, the Avengers Betting Pool (run by none other than Natasha Romanov), and ball bearings

“I still don’t think you can do it.”

 

Clint tipped his head back, so he could see Tony standing behind the couch. “Do what?”

 

“Make it through the airvents on this floor. Even if I only spend an hour making traps.”

 

They had been having the conversation over lunch, on which of them was more powerful in different situations, and Tony had claimed that even ‘the damn spies’ couldn’t make it across a floor if pitted against traps he designed, but quickly rescinding it with one glance at Natasha, to just Clint who couldn’t make it.

 

Clint had said that he could. Tony had insisted he couldn’t. And then Nat had stolen some of his sandwich, and the topic had been forgotten, until now.

 

Steve sighed. “How about we save your high-tech traps for actual enemies?”

 

“Aww, c’mon Steve!” Tony whined, “It’ll be so much fun.”

 

“Your idea of fun generally involves explosions.”

 

Clint spoke up again. “Hey! Explosions are awesome. And that actually does sound kind of fun..” He rolled off of the couch, “Is an hour enough time for you to fully prepare for getting your ass kicked?”

“Bring it on, birdbrain!” Tony laughed.

 

<><><><><>

 

Clint landed in the main vent line without a noise, and glanced down what he could see of his path through the vents. He was sure he’d win the challenge, of course he was, but it was still a bad idea to underestimate their resident tech expert. Clint had seen many of their enemies make that mistake.

 

He tapped his hearing aid/com, and whispered, “Tasha? You there?”

 

“Yeah”

 

“Okay. What’ve you got on your end?”

 

A slight pause, and then, “ I can’t see anything in the first room. I’ve got some motion sensors in the next room, then some sort of… advanced field? Whatever it is, it’s blocking my tech. The fourth has another sort of sensor, touch-based. If you avoid the floor, you’ll be fine. Last room has more motion sensors.”

 

“Thanks, Tasha. How’d you even sense his tech? I thought ‘Stark Technology was untraceable’.”

 

“You forget that he has also given us Stark Technology.”

 

“True.” Clint moved forwards carefully, keeping his weight low to the vent flooring and his eyes peeled for any anomalies, and about halfway through the room, he found one.

 

The vents had been scrubbed.

 

Not like the usual, roomba-type vent cleaning robot had been through, but like they were new. Freshly made.

 

_ A new-looking metal plate in a regular vent would be too obvious. So…. he cleaned the vents. _

_ Which plate? _

 

_ Logically, the floor, _ Clint assumed. If he had been fully focused on stealth, or not have lived here for months, he might not have noticed the difference. 

 

Well, he might have. SHIELD agent and all that.

 

He steadied his balance, and slowly pressed down onto a floor plate.  _ Nat said she didn’t sense technology, so… _ The panel held. He moved on to the next. 

 

After a slight pressure on his part, not only the sheet of metal flooring fell out of the vent, but an entire section of the venting, walls and ceiling included. 

 

He hopped over the gap, and continued to the next room. Motion sensors in this one, apparently. 

_ I just hope it’s not a wall of water. That would suck.  _

 

“Where are the sensors located?”

 

“On either side of the vent near the bottom, probably attached to a pressure plate.”

 

That sounded right. Clint checked the floor panels, then the ceiling, and then- the walls had little, pinprick holes in them. About 20 for each side.  _ Darts?  _

 

_ Or, y’know, deadly heat-seeking missiles. It is Tony. _

 

_...Probably darts. _

 

Inching closer, he pulled a heavy ball bearing out of a hidden pocket, and rolled it towards the plate. As soon as it rolled onto the tile in question, tiny wisps of cloud appeared at the entrances of the holes. 

 

“Shit!” Clint surged forwards, rolling over the pressure plate and into the next room. Which was this one? Second room was… the field, the field of electricity that their technology couldn’t penetrate. Glancing back at the gas, which had enveloped the pressure plate area quickly, but was travelling towards him slightly slower, he pulled out a normal ball bearing, and rolled it across the floor. 

 

The floor of… a completely normal vent. Even he couldn’t see any difference between it and any other vent, and he was Hawkeye.  _ Did it hide spikes? Walls? _ He scanned again. Normal looking walls, roof-The ball bearing was gone.

 

He rolled another.

 

And by the time it reached the fourth floor panel, it… rolled right into the metal. Clint moved forwards, and poked an arrow through the place it had disappeared.  _ The panel was missing. And the next one, and… Maybe the next after that? _ His arrow wasn’t long enough to reach. 

 

“Hey Tasha, when exactly does the interference start?”

 

“About… eight feet in.”

 

“How far does it stretch after that?” he queried.

 

“Fourteen feet.”

 

You’re a lifesaver, Romanov.”

 

“Shut up and prove Stark wrong. I’ve got money on this.”

 

He grinned. “Aww, you bet on me? You do love me.”

 

He could practically hear her eye-roll through the coms. “Finish the damn mission, Barton.” 

 

_ Fourteen feet, so that’s seven panels.  _ He turned sideways in the vents, braced his back and feet against the wall, and slid out over the gap, pushing out in both directions to keep himself up while he scooted along. 

_ One… Two… _

“Who’s holding the betting pool?”

 

Nat serenely responded, “I am.”

 

_ Three… _

 

“They let the super-spy hold the money? Honestly? And we’re  _ not _ supposed to question Cap’s leadership?”

 

_ Four... _

 

“Are you implying that I would cheat my own teammates out of their money?” Nat asked.

 

“Given that having you on the coms and scanning my route is technically not allowed? Yes.”

 

_ Five… _

 

“I don’t see why you’re worried. They don’t have anything near worth my time.”  _ Six…  _ “And if I did want whatever money they had, there are easier methods of obtaining it.”

 

_ Seven!  _ Clint braced himself more steadily, and then poked a foot down. The floor was solid. He slid the few inches to the floor, and continued to where the next room’s wall bisected the outside of the vent. 

 

“What was in room four again?”

 

“Pressure plating,” She responded. “About ten feet in.”

 

He reached the panel before it, and examined the section of venting. Like before, he couldn’t actually tell that it was a pressure plate, but his eye caught minute, paper-thin cracks going up the walls of the venting in a much too regular pattern.  _ What with the lines on the walls, I can’t avoid it, so…  _ he pulled back, and tossed a container of extra arrowheads. Non-explosive arrowheads, he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

 

As soon as the canister touched the floor panel, it slid to the side with lightning speed, revealing a mesh of thick, reinforced cables. Thin wires shot out of the cracks, and the entire net (and container) dropped out of the vents. 

...With a shower of red-and-gold confetti.  _ Typical. _

 

He frowned, and muttered, “Aww… Arrows, no.”

 

He could hear the exasperated smirk in his partner’s voice when she said, “Do you honestly need to say that  _ every time _ this happens to something you like?”

 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

 

“I’m not picking up anything in this room. You’re on your own, Hawkeye.”

 

He scanned the metal tunnel multiple times, but couldn’t see anything. “You’re sure?”

 

“Haven’t you learned not to question me? I thought that after Budapest-”

 

“Hey!” Clint protested, “You know, I remember that mission very differently.”

 

“Of course you do.”

 

With only one room left, this trap was probably going to be the most difficult. Knowing Stark, it was probably going to be devilishly ingenuous, and downright lethal. He cautiously took a single step forwards- 

 

-and was completely coated in paint from head to toe.

 

Shiny, red paint. With flecks of gold glitter.

 

“Motherfucker!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony might've been going easy on him..... I mean, he didn't exit the vents, but that last trap said something about Tony's skills.....
> 
> I'm SO SO SO incredibly sorry this was so late! It wasn't crack or angst, so I had a lot of trouble, lol.
> 
> Please send me prompts, I don't care how long, inspiration is amazing.
> 
> COMMENTS HELP THE WRITING PROCESS(with guilt)
> 
> As always, tell me if you want something marked in the TW and I will.
> 
> Bye!  
> (also, heyyyyy it was a pretty longish chapter :) yay)


	4. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Right after the Chitauri Invasion*
> 
> Tw: mention of jumping out of an elevator, too much pity, abandonment(kind of), and not sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ft. Skittles, Mario, and how stupid it would be to jump out of an elevator in SHIELD HQ. (Looking at you, Cap)
> 
>  
> 
> ANOTHER ONEEEE
> 
>  
> 
> shorter, but it exists. I had to fully scrap my first draft, and this popped into my head. Enjoy, and comment prompts for Chap.5, please!!!!!!

Tony had missed something in the ground rules for the tower.

He’d never said Clint couldn’t be in the vents.

 

Well, maybe the ‘ground’ rules only applied when you were walking around.  _ Wait. Thor and Iron Ass fly around.  _

 

Well. It didn’t matter, Clint reflected as he lay on his back in the aforementioned vents, and munched on a pack of Skittles (The other Hawkeye’s deplorable eating habits must be rubbing off on him. Not that pizza, coffee, and whatever he could get his hands on counted as non-deplorable eating habits.)

 

And even if it had been in the ground rules, he’d still be camping out here.

  
  
  


It’s not like he could stay anywhere else. The team had left without much thought to their recently-no-longer-cleared-for-duty comrade, probably assuming he had somewhere he could be. The tower itself was being completely redone on the inside, and all personnel had been cleared while the (high-clearance) construction crew fixed all Loki had inflicted, and more. 

 

Tony’s parting comment had been “SHIELD can babysit you. Tell Fury I’ll pay him his twenty bucks when we get home. Be in bed by eight!”

  
  
  
  


That situation wasn’t ideal either. He’d tried it, of course. After a day of glares and wariness that made him want to put an arrow through half of the agents’ heads- _ No, not again, no- _ .... Or something. Of course, he wouldn’t actually shoot an agent for no reason. 

_ Again.  _

 

And worse, the pitying stares. He hated pity. It itched all over, and grated when the stares flicked away, but not quite in time. Or when people  _ flinched _ from him, damnit. And not people fresh back from an op, people like Ollie from Records who had never been on a mission in their lives. 

 

_ I’d avoid me too, after-. _

  
  


Anyways.

 

And he couldn’t stay with Kate. He wouldn’t bring this on her, and anyways, wasn’t she offworld? Something about the Young Avengers, and the fate of the universe… Kids these days. 

He smiled, and shifted slightly on the ratty blanket grabbed from his room in SHIELD before he had gotten the fuck out. 

 

And the farm was off-limits. So…..

 

The vents.

 

They actually weren’t that bad, he reflected. He got out and about after the crews left for the night, and exercised on the rafters and the obstacle course being built in the big new room downstairs that would probably be a gym or something. 

He ate stuff from the vending machine, using the same change every night, and breaking into the machine to get his stolen quarters back every morning. It wasn’t healthy, but hey, he was eating. Sometimes.

 

Up here, he had a blanket, a half-wrecked nintendo, pent up energy, and a computer taken from one of the desks. That had actually been a challenge to hack into, Stark knew his stuff, but whatever worker owned it had used their birthday as the password, so it hadn’t been much of a challenge. That had distracted him for a couple of hours. He probably had Mario memorized by now.

 

Sleeping… He wasn’t sleeping. Nope. No, not again. He’d tried that once, back at SHIELD, and waking up from reliving the past couple of days, opening his eyes to find the ‘hidden’ surveillance equipment had been stepped up in his room, stumbling out into the halls filled with unfriendly agents… It was a wonder he hadn’t jumped out of the elevator at HQ what with the incipient panic attack (He was Hawkeye, damnit, he didn’t get panic attacks...) but only a complete idiot would jump out of that elevator. 

They’d think he’d gone rogue again.

  
  
  


Staying awake, oh yeah.

 

He stopped nodding off into his Skittles, and ignored how the room seemed to close in, and the shadows settle closer. 

 

It was going to be a long week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Did I mention I don't own these characters? Duh.
> 
> Tell me if you want something tagged, as usual.
> 
> Okay ILY bye!


	5. The Words Don't Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by our once-a-year rain, a beautifully clear double rainbow, and AAAAAAAA's noticing of my Hamilton references. This posting is thanks to you!
> 
>  
> 
> Includes more skittles, Coulson, and spy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None, actually.   
> Let me know if I should tag something, as always.

 

The day Phil Coulson officially returned to the land of the living, Clint was completely unprepared. 

 

Phil had just reached the short hallway to the room when Clint exited the elevator. He was heading to the same place, having gotten JARVIS’s alert that the team was meeting, and didn’t look up for several seconds. His bow was in his hand, his shirt was on backwards and inside-out, and the usual band-aids patchworking his arms had been joined by one on his nose, and one on his cheek.  

 

He froze, other hand halfway out of his pocket holding his hearing aids.

 

Coulson stilled along with him.

 

He could see the sudden expressions flashing through his eyes, and then… Then they all shut down at once. Like a wall of ice had been slid between Phil’s eyes and his view of Clint’s thoughts.

 

This look was completely unfamiliar. It gave him a horrible feeling that, in the time since he had been ‘dead’, things had changed. He knew thing were going to have changed, logically, but… Did he know this Clint at all?

 

“Spot-on timing as always, sir.” the other agent said in a monotone, before turning back into the elevator, shoving his aids back into his pocket. Coulson looked for his tells, the position of his hand on his bow, the angle of his arms, but… he was almost completely blank.  _ Like I’m a stranger. Or a mission target. Untrusted. Unknown. _

 

“Agent Agent!” Stark’s surprised call had him turning just as the doors closed behind Clint.

“Long time no see. I should’ve know not even death could keep you away from your celebrity crush. Cap, come see!”

Steve joined him in the doorway, looking surprised. “Agent Coulson. I’m… so glad you’re alive. We’d been told you died.”

Phil wiped the worrying exchange with Clint from his mind (for the moment, there was no way he wasn’t coming right back to that issue as soon as he was free...) and smiled pleasantly, accepting the firm handshake from the relieved icon. “I thought I had as well. And the information was classified, until now. I came as soon as I was cleared to do so..”

 

Stark made an undignified squawking sound. “Classified?  _ Classified?  _ I know everything on SHIELD’s sadly underprepared servers, how the hell is this more classified than where your oh-so-secret safehouses are?” 

Phil smiled slightly (superiorly) “If you had checked the agent rosters, I’m sure you would have known sooner.”

Ignoring Stark’s splutter about grunt work and miles and miles of closely written text, he turned, and sensed  _ slight wind, threat, potential injury-(safe, let it happen) _ and felt Natasha’s slap sting on his face. “Agent Romanov.”

 

“Good to have you back on the team, Phil.” She frowned (imperceptibly). He noticed her hand turn slightly in a gifting gesture, then close slightly as if around an arrow.

_ Information-Barton? _

He adjusted his head as he made his greetings to Banner and Thor, and as his hand fell back from the handclasp, angled it in a negating gesture.

_ Yes. Not good. _

He turned back towards her and Stark, who was still talking, and met her eyes. Her eyes that said,  _ This is your responsibility. _ He nodded imperceptibly. 

 

_ Yes. It is. _

  
  


<><><>

 

“I thought vents weren’t your thing.”

“I’m SHIELD, Clint. Everything can be my thing if I want it to be.

 

A pause.

 

He knew Phil would never ask for it. But that he was hoping that Clint would say it. 

 

A part of him wanted to latch on to Phil and never let go, and part of him wanted to never say it. To give Phil some of what he’d been forced to make it through, to try to survive in a Coulson-less world.

 

A world where agents who used to be friendly or neutral snarled at him, or broke his field gear, or just plain glared. 

 

“Natasha told me you were...coping.”

 

He stayed staring ahead.  _ Go away, go away, go away….. Never leave me again, stay right here- go away-  _

“Which I took to mean that you were avoiding Psych, internalizing your issues, and subtly using the agent’s actions to punish yourself.”

 

_ Damn,  _ he thought over the conflicted background of pleas and refusals.  _ Got it in one go. How very Coulson of you. _

 

Another pause. Abruptly, he broke the silence.

“Get your own roof, jerk.”

The response was immediate. “I’ll have to, you keep breaking ours”

“You hate the beach.”

“Hate is for petty archers who don’t show up to meetings and make my job difficult.” A small smile was growing on Clint’s face, even through his turmoil. He started the next line.

“There is not such thing as silence,”

They finished in unison. “The world is just waiting for Phil Coulson to give it permission to speak.”

 

For a moment they stayed frozen, looking straight into each others eyes, and then Clint shifted slightly, and looked down at his skittles.

Phil didn’t expect much of a change in Clint’s attitude, and he was right. But the archer did slouch a bit more, and dangled a colorful bag over his shoulder towards Phil. “Candy?”

 

“Thanks, Clint.”

 

This didn’t change the rift of the past months.

But it meant there was a way forward. That this op wasn’t completely bad.

 

_ I’ve never had a bad op that he couldn’t turn around. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit to Ninjafan1 and Etch's neverending support.
> 
> Please leave any prompts in the comments, and remember that comments are the best way to get a writer to write. I've gone weeks without doing more than a sentence, and that changed with one "Omg, was that Hamilton?"
> 
> Every bit counts.
> 
> THANKS!!!!


	6. A Soldier With A Marksman's Ability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW:Unknown enemies, infiltration, minor fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> This chapter brought by my final despair of getting a comment on the last two, thus getting my head out of my ass and producing this chapter, my wonderful ex-girlfriend's writing inspiring me as always, and The Wedding Story, a short play by Julianne Homokay (does not feature in this fic).
> 
> Hope you enjoy the final installment. FIRST FINISHED CHAPTERED FIC WOOT WOOT

  
  


Clint tossed the knife into the air, tip spinning to exactly one inch below the ceiling, and caught it on it’s descent.  _ Thirty-four, Thirty-five…  _ He was laying on his back in the vents, tossing one of his knives to pass time. 

 

_ Thirty-six _

 

Stupid rules about food.

 

_ Thirty-seven _

 

Stupid snitching Tony

 

_ Thirty-eight _

 

Stupid delicious Nutella

 

And with an especially flourishing spin,  _ Thirty-nine.  _

 

He sighed. Stupid delicious Nutella that had belonged to Natasha. He’d have to stay in the vents a while yet.

 

_ Forty _

 

Not that she couldn’t come after him if she wanted to, of course.

 

_ Forty-one _

 

But she didn’t. It was…

 

_ Forty-two _

 

He didn’t know what it was, but it was... a thing.

 

_ Forty-three _

 

The vents were his, the vents were safe.

 

_ Forty-four _

 

They were a place that no-one could follow him to. His hawk’s nest, as it were.

 

_ Forty-five _

 

_ Forty-six _

 

Of course, Nat and Phil had each joined/hauled his ass out several times, but, well,  _ Phil and Nat. _

 

_ Forty-se- _

 

He caught the knife midspin, and froze in place.

 

He knew that sound. 

 

That was the sound of standard op boots. SHIELD issue op boots, but…

 

_ Why the fuck is there a TAC squad in the Avengers Tower? _

 

He stayed frozen, listening intently. 

 

_ Point one, we handle our own shit. Point two, they are most definitely not cleared. Point three- _

 

Clint had been in the SHIELD vents for as long as he’d been an agent there. 

And TAC agents jingle. Faintly, from the carabiners placed on the back left strap of the vest.

So unless he was very, very mistaken, these people had mismatched uniforms, and how the fuck does someone lose part of their uniform, and-

 

They were in the hallway underneath him.

 

The hallway outside Wanda’s room.

 

The hallway that led to all of their rooms.

 

_ Shit. _

 

He slid his knife back into it’s sheath, and felt for his bow, signing an alert to FRIDAY with his other hand. 

Or, he started to. 

He heard the sound of battle explode below him suddenly. 

_ Wanda must have heard them thinking.  _

The surprised “Motherfu-” and added noise suggested Sam was trying to help as well as he could without the wings.

 

Jarvis cut in about then.  **There are assailants on the three team levels, two teams engaged with Avengers. The last team is headed to the lab.**

 

Frozen in place, Clint felt his instincts kick in _. Cut and run. Blow the op. You can still get out of here. _

_ They’ll never even see you go. _

 

The sounds of fighting kept him in the moment. 

  
  


Tensing for battle, he kicked out the panel below him, landing in a crouch with metal plating clanging down beside him. He rolled to his feet, slinging his bow around the head of a fake agent as he ran past, only for it to snap back. As he turned at the end of the hall, arrow nocked and ready, he saw Wanda’s magic catch the stunned guard almost unawares.

 

His refuge and escape route out of reach above him, he prepared to fight for his family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy mother of huitzilopotchtli, this was a process!!!  
> Much thanks to ninjafan1, who was my motivation for chapters 2&3, EtchCantrellOrLightningHeterodyne (love you dahling), and everyone else who commented, you have nO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT MOTIVATED ME AAHHH
> 
> This is really thanks to you (: so have a nice day, suggest prompts down below, and I hope you enjoyed this T R A S H


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